Secrets Should Remain Secret

August 18, 2020
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This may seem obvious, but in practice, there’s real pressure to make everything you do, think or feel into a public statement. Whatever happened to keeping things out of the mainstream and letting a personal experience remain, well, personal?

You’re driving along a main Hill Country artery when you knowingly slide off into the shoulder and onto an inconspicuous little road. Anyone who doesn’t know the way would immediately turn around. The pavement turns to chip seal, small pebbles that have come loose over time tink against the back bumper. You wind your way past old farmsteads and ragged trees, everything around you would tell a wandering tourist to just turn around and get back on the highway. But you carry on, to a small gate, which opens, and out before you stretches a hidden gem. It’s that feeling you get when a friend shows you a secret book-case door and leads you into their wine cellar, or when you are driving and suddenly you reach the beach. The preamble has set up this surprise for you, the gate opens, your wheels go quiet on the now-paved roadway leading through sweeping fields of carefully mowed and manicured grasses and trees, up to a home sparkling with windows.

And then you realize that only you know that it’s here. It’s all still a great big secret.

You drive past the house a little bit, not quite content to go inside just yet, and you park down by the spring that always seems to be bubbling out the coldest and clearest water. The little rivulet flows into a pond, and as you sit there, you can just see the flash and flicker of a fish’s side as it makes bubbles of its own. A songbird, who’s been hiding in the nearby stand of live oaks, goes from silent to full song with such conviction that you jump a little bit, and smile that it startled you. You notice the little pile of broken sticks left over from the grandkids teepee-building escapade, and keep smiling. 

Back at the house, you kiss your spouse and close the heavy front door as your skin tingles a little as the heat from outside comes in contact with the tight climate-controlled environment. The sun beams into the living room and the kitchen receives the various bags you’re holding. Condensation drips onto the stone countertop.  As dinner ends and night falls, you swim in the pool and talk about life, the bottle of wine empty, you both hush as a majestic Axis Buck steps across the field below the pool, leading his herd. You see them most nights, so you remark on the young fawns who have already begun to grow up. It reminds you of your own children who will be home in a few weeks to visit. The darkening sunset is bright with young stars and life in the country is as silent as the night sky you’re observing. 

And then you realize that only you know that it’s here. It’s all still a great big secret.

Some owners just don’t want to spoil what they’ve got for anyone else. When moving on to the next place, there’s a level of respect you have for what you have been enjoying. Privacy is something you can preserve for the next person if you’re intentional. It’s a value you want to share with whoever stewards the land after you’ve gone. This land is a great secret, that’s what makes it so special. No one would ever know it’s located where it is, and only a couple of people ever will. A private treaty process is the only way to be able to transition a haven like this to someone who really understands it and wants to carry on a legacy of quietude and beauty. This place isn’t for developers, it’s for the native deer and grasses. It’s best to preserve the best-kept secrets, at least a few of them, like this.

This writing is derived from the 124 Acre Private Treaty offering we’ve named Springhaven Ranch. We are looking for a qualified future owner and steward of this special, secret place.

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